On Sunday, my outing was no further than the park directly behind my flat, armed with a blanket, chickpea salad sandwiches, shandies and books. My need to go out and enjoy weekends is almost pathological sometimes... I've always felt that time spent at home, unless you're with people you really like drinking tea or wine, is time wasted. However, I've been working 50 hours or so the last couple of weeks with one thing and another (including a new, more interesting, temporary job), plus bashing myself up in bizarre ways (tripping over suitcases and smashing my elbows springs to mind). Under the circumstances, an outing that required as little time spent getting there as possible was needed. It was so nice to lie on the grass, wonder at everyone in Barcelona seeming to have a French Bulldog, and read a few pages...
Photos by Albert
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